


Stamped

by Lertsek



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: #day1: destiny, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, NCT Ensemble - Freeform, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, WayV Ensemble - Freeform, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lertsek/pseuds/Lertsek
Summary: There is one soul mark in particular that Ten treasures, one that appeared when he passed the audition to train under SM Entertainment. It's that of a little dancer, looking up, face not visible but hands in the air, ready to jump.He keeps that one tucked away, just for himself.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 45
Kudos: 362
Collections: BBBFest Debut Round: The Bittersweet Option, In Every Lifetime: A KunTen Fan Week





	Stamped

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Appia for being my first ever beta and whipping this story into shape. Thank you for letting me rant for hours and scream just for the hell of it for many more. 
> 
> Thank you to Sam & Mina for listening to said screaming and screaming back just as loudly. 
> 
> Thank you for every !reassure. Without it this story would have probably been deleted in a fit of despair. 
> 
> Keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. I've tried to sketch a timeline as close to reality as could be but of course it's not perfect. It is a story after all.
> 
> #day1: destiny  
> #prompts filled: homesick but no idea where home is, casual nudity

Ten always thought he belonged to the group of people with a low amount of soul markings, the group that felt things in moderation and so took longer to have marks appear on their skin, if they had anything appear at all. 

It’s not that he didn’t like his high school friends, it’s just that when they proudly showed him their mark that Ten caused—whereas he had nothing to show in return—they were more than just disappointed. They were angry. Which caused Ten to become angry at himself. 

He only had three markings on his body. There was a television screen for his dad, the head of a particularly happy pug for his sister, and a flower for his mother which faded when he crossed countries into Korea, but bloomed again every time he called home. 

His markings were in black and white, another abomination in the eyes of his old friends who had their arms and legs filled with color, making their limbs look like sticker sheets. 

Ten could only admit to himself that he was jealous of the marks that crawled over their bodies. But when Ten looked at his own skin, he found art in a style that was still developing, a style that was getting more detailed with the years. Lines slowly being carved as wrinkles into the pug head for his sister, the television screen’s static display becoming less of a please stand by screen and more of something that looked like an actual television channel. His markings slowly became something that he could be proud of, and so he treasured them, kept them close. 

There was one in particular that he held tight to his chest, one that appeared when he passed the audition to train under SM Entertainment. The little dancer was quite literally engraved over his heart, looking up, face not visible but hands in the air, ready to jump. He kept that one tucked away, just for himself.

* * *

He gets placed in SM Rookies and it can’t be described as anything but a whirlwind. At least, the first year. Ten knows he’s good, he dances better than most of them and his voice is fine. 

He soon learns to connect the word _fine_ in his head to the words _not good enough._ Fine is average, fine is bland, fine is boring. It overtakes him, consumes him. 

Not good enough means no debut. So he has to be better, and tries to be so desperately. 

There are others besides him—at least seven that join in the same year as him that have potential. One has a voice that Ten can only ever dream of owning, another is young, too young, but there is passion in the way he moves, technique waiting to be shaped. Ten tries harder. 

There are others, but there is one in particular that sticks out to him. He hangs out with the boy, starts dividing his downtime between more practice and inhaling noodles in their now usual spot. He is sweet, caring, patient when Ten struggles time and again with a language and a new alphabet that doesn’t quite feel comfortable yet. The boy repeats words back to him, exaggerating the shapes with his mouth so Ten can pick them up more easily. 

There is no pain when getting a new soul mark. It doesn’t itch like a tattoo would. You don’t need to wrap it in foil to protect it. It just appears one day and stays forever. 

Ten wakes up one morning with a tree on his hand, the roots crawling over his fingers and disappearing into the beds of his nails. It stands, steadfast, like you could push and pull but it wouldn’t move for anyone. He spends an hour cradling and admiring it to the point where he is almost late for his vocal training. Later he shows it to the boy who fits the drawing perfectly: the boy who has been here the longest out of all of them, whose determination is something to strive for. 

Ten links his hand with Johnny’s like second nature, but this time the action covers up the little purple heart that rests in the middle of Johnny’s palm, fresh and bright. They pull up their hoods and stumble to their ramen shop.

* * *

Doyoung is incredibly easy to hate. Their personalities clash more often than not and Ten is still so limited in the Korean language that he can’t do anything but hiss insults and hope they sound somewhat right. 

He gets a bunny as thanks for his efforts. Not even something coming out of Donnie Darko. No, it’s a fluffy bunny with big ears and adorably overdrawn teeth. The eyes look a little wide but it’s still the cutest drawing on his body. 

Ten spends three hours trying to scrub it off his calf, one leg awkwardly positioned in the sink while balancing on the other, using every soap in the dorm they have. He scrubs until all his skin has turned red. It does nothing to make the mark less visible; it only succeeds in turning the smile of the bunny upside down. Ten scrubs for another hour before giving up and going to bed, thinking about dealing with it again in the morning.

* * *

They release a dance practice to build hype for their first concert. It gains traction. A lot of traction. A lot of traction directed toward _him._ It makes his heart flutter while he reads the comments on SNS. Ten has never been one to feel much pride for anything he does, but this time it sings in his veins. It makes all the countless hours in the studio worth it, all the too-early mornings where he woke long before everyone else to get that specific slide down, all the sleepless nights struggling through the same routine over and over again. 

For the first time since he started his training, there is visual proof out there in the open that he is improving. His moves are getting even sharper, the control he has over his body has become stronger. To have others see this makes his cheeks flare up, even if he will never admit that out loud, not even to Johnny. It makes him want to keep on pushing just that little bit extra, even if he pushes himself too much already according to his friend. It makes the pain he has always felt in his leg disappear just slightly, for one beautiful second. 

Ten watches the video over and over again, monitoring first himself and then Johnny, glad to see that their extra practices together in the studio as well as the dorm were worth it. In comparison to himself, it is easy to feel proud of Johnny, and Ten is sure to tell him so with a quick text. 

What he doesn’t expect, though, is that after his nth rewatch his eyes have started to track another person. A body in an Adidas top, moving across the floor like he was made to dance. 

Ten knows Taeyong didn’t always move like that. He remembers how awkward the boy flailed his limbs in the beginning. It seems like ages ago compared to the Taeyong that plays before him on the tiny screen of his phone. This Taeyong feels like someone that has something big waiting for him. This is who the netizens are talking about when they say SM has a bright future ahead of it. This Taeyong is competition. Ten rewinds and presses play on the video again.

During the next dance practice, his eyes for once aren’t glued to himself in the mirror, instead they focus on the boy a couple of paces away from him, dancing his heart out and putting an equal amount of effort into every move. He dances like he is on stage even if the cameras aren’t on, even if Taeyong doesn’t know yet what a stage feels like. But Ten knows, and Ten can feel the passion burning. 

At one point when they get a drink break and everyone is splayed out on the wooden floor, Taeyong catches his eye as he wipes the sweat off his brows with another one of his classic Adidas shirts, this one a light grey. He gives Ten a smile. A slow one, a quiet one. A friendly one. 

This Taeyong is someone Ten wouldn’t mind standing next to in a group, would probably feel proud to do so. This Taeyong is someone Ten wants to dance beside.

* * *

In December later that year, the first Chinese member joins their SM Rookies group. At first sight, he’s nothing special. His voice is good if a bit soft, as soft as his persona makes him out to be. Ten thinks he’s nice, and that’s as far as it stretches. 

Sicheng joins a month later with Lucas following right behind, two people with whom Ten hits it off instantly, despite the language barrier. 

Suddenly the language class that had only been inhabited by himself and Yuta gets filled. Ten can’t say the energy bothers him; it’s quite the opposite, he revels in it. These are people who understand his struggle. That even if you are a fast learner, you never do feel one hundred percent comfortable. That learning new words every day is fun, but also keeps reminding you that you are not in the place where you need to be, especially not if you are going to debut and need to be able to handle press. 

Interviews are right around the corner. If before was a whirlwind, now is a hurricane. April is the word that keeps bouncing in the back of his mind, an entire calendar month that is imposing on him bit by bit. Between extra dance practices and music video shoots, between him and Sicheng giving up on using hand motions and resorting to Google translate, between coffee dates with a slightly sulky Johnny there is one thing that stays solid. Until it doesn’t. 

Ten only notices the new mark when it gets pointed out to him. One of the makeup artists that’s in charge of covering up the soul marks tells him that he really should’ve mentioned all of them. Ten is dumbstruck as she stands behind him and points towards his neck. She holds up a mirror so he can see. And reflected in the mirror is another mirror. A long one made out of wooden frames. It’s a mark that’s on the bigger side, something compared to the one on his hand for Johnny. 

The makeup artist asks him if he had known. There is no use in lying, not with how he has been sitting in the makeup chair staring in disbelief at the wonky wooden poles of his new mark. 

“I didn’t,” he says. He doesn’t add that he doesn’t know for who it is either.

She nods, tells him it’s alright, tells him to get dressed and go back to the dorm, that they’ll make sure to have extra coverage for him ready when he takes the stage in about a month. 

Before he pulls his shirt back on, he looks at the one mark that’s never changing. But instead of the usually stretched legs that the little shadow of a dancer has over his heart, one seems to be bent. Ten ignores the recognition he feels. Ten ignores that his mark has changed at all. Instead, he pulls on his shirt and brushes off the way his knee doesn’t completely sit in place as he walks back to the company car.

* * *

The moment The 7th Sense comes out, everything changes. Everything becomes more real, like the veil has been lifted. Ten knew he had been working towards something. Here it was, right in front of him. And goddamn if he wasn’t going to take it with both hands and run as far as he could. 

He knows he’s lucky. Lucky to not be stuck in the regime for another couple of years. He’s lucky, he’s happy, and it shows. 

They are moved into a dorm, and Ten puts in just a bit more effort to connect with everyone, even Doyoung. Maybe it’s in grunts and half-hearted waves but he does try. 

They perform at the 16th Top Chinese Music Awards, and Ten sweeps Sicheng into a hug as soon as they are backstage again. It turns into a group hug, pointy elbows crushing into his sides and sweaty bodies piled on top of one another. Ten notices he doesn’t mind, not even a little bit. He could get used to this, this beginning of something. 

He’s fortunate, and yet. 

Johnny cries. It starts as a celebration lunch but ends in a quiet sobfest. Ten has one song, Johnny still has none. Ten isn’t part of the line up for NCT 127 and that makes his heart bruise. What makes it break, though, is looking at Johnny’s teary eyes and knowing he isn’t either. 

Walking back to the dorm, Ten lets Johnny lean on him. He lets the taller boy use him as a pillar, is scared that Johnny will fall down if he doesn’t. It’s unfair. It’s so incredibly unfair Ten wants to scream. 

Back at the dorm, they find Lucas still awake. Another one of the unfortunates. They could start a club at this point. 

They have a slogan made in five minutes, an entire pitch in fifteen. A drunken brabble that no one but Lucas seems to fully understand. Ten takes out pen and paper and makes a banner. They stick it to Johnny’s back with tape. Draw another two and stick it to their own. Laughing as they run around and let the paper billow behind them, not letting go no matter how much they move or how high they jump, Lucas making them do the entire Chewing Gum choreo with him. 

When they wake up in the morning, it seems like the paper has pressed through their shirts and settled onto their skin. It’s faint, and in a place that doesn’t need to be covered with makeup when they take the stage. If they take the stage again at all.

* * *

Promotions for NCT U end and with it come Johnny’s tears again. This time Ten doesn’t cry with him though, instead he smiles. He’s proud of his friend. As proud as his friend was of him. 

Johnny proposes to take Doyoung with them to celebrate seeing as the other boy also made the cut and Ten, despite himself, says yes. 

Winter is setting in now, making itself very known. At the end of the night, when their bellies are full and their faces sore from smiling, Ten takes his gloves off and changes into sweatpants only to see that the bunny on his calf doesn’t have that droopy look to it anymore. It isn’t happy, but it isn’t sad either.

* * *

When Limitless drops, Ten is at the kitchen table in the Dream dorm, refreshing Youtube, his laptop the only glowing light in the otherwise dark room. 

He can hear the front door that he left slightly open be opened further. A couple of seconds later Johnny comes shuffling into the kitchen, his plans of sleeping being disrupted by nerves as he had said in his texts. He will watch the video with the team a couple of hours later, but his first viewing is with Ten, each an earbud claimed for themselves, holding hands under the kitchen table and squeezing once Johnny first appears on screen. 

“You look cool,” Ten whispers. He gets a punch to his arm for it. They watch the video again. When Johnny puts it on rewind for the third time, Ten leaves him with his laptop, creeping back through the living room and to his shared room with Lucas. 

When he enters the kitchen in the morning he finds his laptop closed, headphones carefully rolled up and placed on top of it. The screen still displays the Limitless music video when he opens it. Kun moves behind him with a cereal bowl in hand. To his surprise, instead of going to the living room, the older boy settles down in the chair next to him. 

He gives Ten a knowing look before taking a spoonful of fruit loops. 

“Play it?” he asks in Korean. 

Ten obliges. He gets distracted by Kun’s spoon hitting the edge of the bowl halfway through the first verse. He doesn’t catch much more after that, instead focusing on Kun’s measured chewing and little head bops when the chorus comes around for the third time. 

After practice Ten walks down to the SM Store and purchases all three versions that same day. He takes one of the younger members with whom he is quite taken to go with him. Chenle invites his friend Jisung along. To Ten’s surprise, Chenle also gets all three versions. 

Over coffee—Ten’s treat—he finds out that Taeyong doesn’t just have one admirer in their circle. They laugh, break brownies and cookies with too much sugar. They are younger than him and it’s noticeable, but it doesn’t bother him. He feels that shared passion, that shared drive, can see it in their eyes as they can probably see it in his. 

“I can see why Kun likes you,” Chenle says at one point, stumbling over most over the words. Jisung acts as half-hearted translator, being one of the people Chenle hangs around with most, he’s learned to pick up on what Chenle means to say by the couple of vowels he pushes out and the hand motions that accompany it. Ten doesn’t mind it. He’s used to it. He and Sicheng sometimes still act out things when they forget a word. Johnny still corrects him, although it’s starting to happen less often, especially now that Johnny’s busy with constant training and preparations.

He is surprised at Chenle’s words, though, and it must show on his face because Chenle laughs at his reaction. 

Sicheng used to tell him to show more interest, that Kun was worth putting effort into. Instead of following his advice, Ten gravitated more toward Lucas. He won’t lie, he’d felt a bit left out at times, especially when Chenle and Renjun started to join the language classes, with the latter being just as fast a learner as Ten. 

They tried to limit it to Korean for Ten and Yuta’s sake but still their mother tongue would slip in more often than not. Ten understood, how could you ask questions about a language that you were just starting to grasp when those questions also had to be in that language. 

He supposes that picking up a few Chinese words did have some benefits. It showed in how the entire class had cheered when he had introduced himself in Chinese, every vowel sharp and clean after a couple of tries. How in return Renjun had said, _teach us Thai._

Ten remembers everyone mouthing the phrase carefully. How Renjun got it right on his second try. Yuta on his third. Lucas far from it and making everyone laugh. 

He remembers Kun coming up to him after the class was over, on their way to their next dance practice or vocal lesson or to maybe catch some sleep. He remembers Kun introducing himself in Thai to Ten, asking if he did it right. Ten had just bowed and laughed it off, saying that his pronunciation was pretty good. He hadn’t thought more about it since. 

Coffee cups empty and two prepubescent teenagers bouncing through the dorm, Ten vows he’s never going to feed them coffee again. From here on out it’s going to be tea and tea only. 

He carries his album stack over to his bedroom, takes the middle one with the red sticker out and shuffles down the hallway to Kun and Chenle’s room. He places the album on the bed that he knows is not Chenle’s, going by the times he has been in this room and the big Firetruck poster that is taped to the wall of the bed above. He doesn’t take Kun as a person to do that. 

In contrast with the top bunk, Kun’s bed is calm, almost entirely bare. The sheets are neatly tucked in, almost like no one slept under them last night. A couple of pictures of what Ten supposes is Kun’s family line the wall. Kun’s space feels like it belongs to a person that has a suitcase ready under the bed, just in case. 

Ten hates himself for it but he checks, his curiosity getting the better of him. There isn’t a suitcase but there is a big overnight weekend bag. It’s only half-filled. Ten doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.

* * *

The move to the Dream dorm changed a lot. The tip of the iceberg being his dynamic with Johnny and Mark, another person Ten has slowly been building his friendship with, another English speaker ready to teach and translate. 

Ten wouldn’t like to admit to it but the changes are quite drastic. Drastic, but not bad. 

Lucas and Kun moved with him. Sicheng stayed with 127. The lines are split. 

When he showers he sees the mark on his back has not only widened but also sharpened, the banner becoming thick around the edges so it’s more evident on his skin. 

He asks Lucas about it, when the rest of the dorm has grown quiet. There is so much time on their hands, it’s almost hard to take part in conversation these days because there isn’t enough to talk about and too much useless time to fill. 

In an attempt at explanation, or solidarity, Lucas drops down from the bed above him and takes his shirt off. Ten follows. Lucas’s mark hasn’t grown quite as stark as Ten’s but it has become more apparent, bigger, now almost stretching from shoulder to shoulder. Like the joke is gone. The attempt at humor is silenced, and they are left with reality. Stuck with it. Like something that’s between your teeth and doesn't want to come out. The only difference that it’s between their shoulder blades. 

Ten reaches a hand around his back, attempting to touch, to feel the ink. It’s in vain, the soul mark is just as smooth as the skin around it. Like it isn’t just on his skin but actually woven into it. 

“Is it ugly?” he asks, letting his hand drop back onto the covers. 

“No,” Lucas responds instantly. 

Both hold their quiet, until Lucas breaks it, moving to sit behind Ten. “The mirror above it…” he starts. Ten can feel the hesitation in the air. “Nevermind.” 

“You can ask,” Ten says. 

“Are you sure? You’re usually pretty careful about these things.” 

Ten hadn’t known that that had been so obvious. So clear that outsiders could pick up on it. But then again, Lucas wasn’t really an outsider, not anymore. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Ten feels Lucas’s fingers on his skin this time instead of just hovering above it. His friend carefully traces the rectangle of the banner before moving higher. Very slowly, very carefully do Lucas’s fingers creep closer towards his neck. 

“It’s pretty,” is all Lucas says before falling silent again. 

“I don’t know whose it is,” Ten admits for the first time. 

“Hah, a mystery tattoo.” 

Ten can’t help but snort. Lucas makes it sound like he went to those ‘stick your hand in the wall and see what you get’ places. Which, Ten supposes, isn’t that far off from reality.

“No,” Lucas says. “All jokes aside, I love the artwork.” 

“Thank you,” is all Ten can say. And just a bit quieter after it, “That means a lot.”

* * *

Dream has their first comeback, which in turn has Kun strutting around the place like a mother hen—something that started when they officially moved in and reinforced itself the longer they stayed. Sicheng and Lucas laugh about it behind his back. Ten does too, though he knows why Kun behaves the way he does. 

They’re just kids. Kids that can’t help that they fell into this industry that wants to break them apart just because they have a dream. 

Ten can’t deny the way the kids also awaken a sudden urge in him to protect. To wrap an arm around them and hold them close. Make sure they get enough sleep and eat three meals a day. 

Lucas might make fun of Ten too, for going soft, but he whines just as much about wanting to be doted on. Ten indulges him, not just because he feels like he has to, but because it’s Lucas. Because they share a soul mark. 

A soul mark that fades the day Ten hears about the chance he has for a solo. 

Life gains back the meaning that was slowly draining from him. Ten doesn’t do well with sitting still, never has. At least during trainee days he could throw himself into practice, lose himself for countless hours and sleep for the leftover ones. 

It’s not like he hasn’t been doing that, it’s just that now he can work towards something again. Something that he can wrap his hands around and hold. Something solid. 

Lucas doesn’t stop squealing with delight for an hour straight when Ten tells him he gets to be a feature in the music video. Ten has no choice but to half hold him and half join him in jumping around in excitement. 

The video is stunning. Just as the song. Johnny barges into the Dream dorm, dragging Sicheng behind him. To Ten’s surprise, Taeyong and Doyoung also show up. Followed by Jaehyun, Mark, and a grinning Yuta. They work together, hook the laptop up to the television because there is no way they’re going to be able to see anything with all of them crowded around a small computer screen. The kids rub at tired eyes but sit in front of the couch nonetheless. Johnny is next to him with Jaehyun settled on his knee, fitting his purple heart over Ten’s tree mark. On his other side is a cluster of Taeyong, Chenle, and Yuta, all fighting for a spot on the couch.

Together they wait until the clock strikes twelve. Renjun refreshes the site. It takes a second and fear creeps into Ten’s throat. Anxiety that maybe it won’t show up, that maybe management decided to not air it despite all the hard work. Or maybe it would look bad. Maybe he would look bad, his dancing sloppy and notes sung off-key. 

He can feel Johnny squeeze his hand. The video pops up. Renjun clicks on it. Ten squeezes back. 

_That’s you,_ Lucas keeps saying. _Ten, that’s you._ He doesn’t even comment on his own cameo throughout the video, only afterward does he ask if anyone spotted him. 

Ten can’t help but agree. That _is_ him, on the screen. Background dancers around him making him the center of attention. 

He chances a glance around the room while the video plays a second time. He’ll analyze later, when everyone has gone to bed. For now he scans their faces. 

There’s Jaemin and Jeno in front of him sitting close and laughing. Taeyong next to him looking some sort of content. _Proud,_ Ten realizes after a second. Taeyong looks proud. 

Doyoung makes a comment that has everyone laughing but Ten doesn’t catch it. His eyes are stuck on Kun, who’s looking right back at him. Kun nods, a smile on his lips. Ten nods back and whips his head back to the front. Something in his veins sings. He squeezes Johnny’s hand tighter to ground himself. 

“There I am!” Lucas exclaims, pointing at the screen just as it switches over from one cut to the next. He’s wearing just a tank top, the banner on his back peeking out from the sleeves. Still stark and visible. The word _unfortunates_ is clear if you know what it reads, if you were there the night it was created. 

When Ten looks at his own back later that night, he sees that his own rectangle has faded, the word in it unreadable. It has faded, and yet it isn’t gone completely.

* * *

Ten looks at the phone in his hands. He has to squint to make out the words in the low light as he can’t be bothered to search for his glasses. The brightness of the screen is all the way down so as not to wake Lucas up. 

A text bubble appears and disappears. Ten waits.

 _Thank you,_ Taeyong responds, ever formal. 

Ten is about to close his phone and spend the rest of the night regretting even trying to engage Taeyong in a conversation in the first place but then another text bubble appears. 

_The music video was…something._

Ten laughs, quick to mask it as a cough when he hears Lucas roll over. 

His fingers fly over the keyboard to respond. 

_i dunno that scene with the guy on the elephant was pretty cool_

He imagines Taeyong a floor above him, probably exhausted from working on promotions for 127’s third mini album. 

_I knew you and your artistic mind could appreciate a good colorful elephant and a robot dude covered in mirrors._

Ten bites his lip, in his brain mulling over if he should just wish Taeyong a good night and leave it at that. Despite his brain telling him no, he sends another cheeky text back about Taeyong’s new station video. 

Despite his gut feeling telling him Taeyong doesn’t want to talk, he gets a response back. And another one. 

_I’m going to bed,_ Taeyong announces for the third time two hours later. This time really giving in. _See you soon. Sleep well._

* * *

The next evening Taeyong opens the conversation by saying Doyoung ate the leftovers and he’s about to commit homicide. Ten spends two full minutes grinning at his screen before responding that he will gladly help get rid of the body. 

An Adidas logo appears just above his elbow. It feels oddly fitting for someone who can only have soul marks that consist out of black lines and patches.

“It’s small,” Taeyong notes when trailing his pointer finger over it. They’re in the studio where Taeyong has locked himself again.

Ten’s back is to him, giving him easier access, a better view. He arrived an hour ago with the intention to get Taeyong out of here and back to the dorms to sleep in a proper bed. 

Taeyong’s right. The logo is small compared to the other marks he has on his body. The pug for his sister is bigger even though he hasn’t seen or talked to her in ages. Blood runs thick, Ten supposes. But then how could you explain the labrador that has added itself to Ten’s back, lazily draped over the banner that has come back starkly, like it owns him. Or the tree on his hand that seems to sway a bit but has the roots stuck in his nails regardless. The people to whom those marks belong aren’t blood. They’re something that runs even thicker. 

The mark Ten has for Taeyong is small, but it is undoubtedly his. Ten doesn’t know why out of all things it had to be an existing logo. It feels oddly in contrast with the other soul marks on his body, ones that speak of originality. But it’s there regardless, sitting above his elbow. 

And Taeyong is still holding his fingertip over it, contact that is burning Ten’s skin. 

Ten wants to ask a question. A question he himself has hated since high school. Where the umpteenth person would ask what mark Ten had for them and he had nothing to show. 

Taeyong is a bit like his high school friends, but even more to the extreme. Taeyong is an actual walking sticker sheet. There are little figures across his body everywhere. In all shapes, sizes, and colors. They’re blobs of ink spread out onto knuckles crossing over onto wrists and going all the way over his chest through his legs to his little toe. Some are connected, some are growing closer to one another. Some have actual forms and some are still forming. 

Ten knows the makeup artists find Taeyong a real piece of work, especially because they have to cover him the most out of anyone. But they do it. Because they are told to do so for the simple reason that Taeyong has talent. Taeyong has that special something that Ten only noticed when he looked closer. These days you don’t have to lean in to see it, you can spot it from a mile away. 

Taeyong is a living, breathing piece of neon art and when Ten looks at him he sees a boy he would walk through hell and back for. 

There’s a saying that asks you if your friends jumped across the river would you do it too. The answer to this had always been no for Ten. There was no one he wanted to follow. Not until Taeyong showed up. Ten loves the stage, and it loves him just as much in return. He loves the spotlight and being the center. But he wouldn’t mind following behind Taeyong, standing in his shadow if only to stand with him. And maybe, over time, stand beside him. 

Ten feels Taeyong’s fingertips retract from his elbow. He turns around to find Taeyong looking down at the couch. 

He will probably regret it later, and yet he asks, “Do you have one for me?” It comes out whiny and pitiful but most of all curious. Cause that’s what Ten is, curiosity all around. 

Taeyong looks up and smiles. “Of course I do,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe for Taeyong it is. He feels deeply after all, Ten knows this from their conversations and from casually observing. Taeyong and Doyoung might fight like cats and dogs do, but Taeyong’s mark for Doyoung is even bigger than the bunny Ten carries. 

“Could I—” Ten starts, a bit afraid but that curiosity in him not letting go. It has set its claws into him. He must know now, doesn’t want to leave the room not knowing. 

To Ten’s surprise, Taeyong doesn’t say anything, just turns around so his back is facing Ten. He rolls the right sleeve of his shirt up, struggling a bit when he has to drag it over his elbow. 

“Maybe it would’ve been better to take it off,” Ten laughs. 

“Maybe,” Taeyong says. Ten can hear the smirk through the sole word. 

When the sleeve is finally where it needs to be, a word is uncovered. Stand. It says. Just five simple letters. Five letters that pull at something in his heart. 

Out of instinct, Ten touches the dancer on his chest. Always there, always solid. Always ready to jump. 

Taeyong reaches back around himself and gathers one of Ten’s hands in his own, leading it to just above his right elbow. Making Ten touch his mark like he did previously to Ten’s own. 

Ten traces the letters one by one. The font is slim, a bit stretched out but not too much. The letters don’t reach above or beyond, not seeming to want to connect with other marks. It’s like they’re on their own little island on Taeyong’s skin. 

Ten moves closer. He lets one of his arms come to wrap around Taeyong’s waist. Taeyong leans back, just slightly. Just enough so that Ten can place his head against Taeyong’s nape, something that he does more out of comfort than instinct. Because he has is starting to get into the habit of acting first and thinking second. 

Ten lets his fingers on Taeyong’s arm come to wrap around it. His grip loose but there nonetheless. Taeyong shifts and lets himself lean against Ten completely, giving his body’s weight away. 

Ten accepts because he can. Because he wants to. He doesn’t know if it’s smart. Scratch that, they both know this is a stupid idea. And yet, Ten wraps his other arm around Taeyong’s waist, holds him tight. 

They don’t do anything that can’t be played off as just an overly friendly hug. Something that can be played off as fanservice even if the cameras aren’t rolling. Ten just holds and Taeyong lets himself be held. 

He finally manages to whisk Taeyong back to the dorm an hour later. Both walking through the night with scarves wrapped around their throats for the oncoming cold. Taeyong lets Ten lean on him as he drags one of his legs behind him. 

They go slow, for Ten’s sake. Taeyong had thrown a fit when Ten had shown up in the first place, saying that he needed rest and to most of all not be walking distances like this. 

Walking back now, feeling Taeyong’s body heat against his, Ten can’t help but think about the black letters on Taeyong’s skin that spell out _stand._

* * *

The slight cold makes place for a harsher one, a cold that bites his skin like time does. 

Time does not go easy on him, it never has. Ten doesn’t think he would want for it to either, since it treats him like a motionless doll. Something that can only sit prettily and wait. It tests his patience. Being patient is an ability that he has learned over the many hours he has spent tucked away in studios and his bedroom. The many hours he has spent at the kitchen table and at his desk. The many hours he has spent hoping for another chance, another opportunity. The many hours he has spent healing. 

It came to a point where he would almost religiously check his dancer mark every morning. Until he noticed what he was doing and how obsessive he was getting so he quit cold turkey. 

He asked around for some tape and when the no one could locate any he instead searched every kitchen drawer until he found bandages. He put them one by one over the figure over his heart until he couldn’t see it anymore. 

Ten waited, listened to Joy on repeat when the holidays rolled around. Everyone is too busy to celebrate, but still trying to find time to exchange presents and a quick happy new year. 

Joy bleeds over into Boss and further into Baby Don’t Stop, a song Chenle plays before bed every night when he does sleep in the dorms.

* * *

Ten wouldn’t have ever expected it upon first seeing him, or spending time with him in the beginning, but now he knows no better. Taeyong is fun to be around. 

They are flown to Ukraine, a country Taeyong visited not even that long ago. Ten knows a bit about the place, mostly through excited updates Lucas sent him and the many pictures accompanying it. 

What Ten hadn’t anticipated though, was the snow. It’s his first time seeing it after a long while. When he throws a snowball against Taeyong’s back and runs away crying out for mercy he supposes it’s his first snowball fight. 

They drink hot chocolate and share food. They shiver together in their suits that should definitely not be allowed, especially not with this weather. They laugh, they talk, and when the sun sets they push their beds together. 

It starts with careful exploring, not just of hands like what Ten is used to with Johnny. No, Taeyong runs his mouth over Ten’s body like he is looking for treasure. He finds it in the way Ten’s legs shake and his body trembles, in Ten’s closed eyes and the way he throws back his head, in the way Ten needs a second to catch his breath before asking if he can return the favor. 

They sleep against each other on the airplane, they don’t define it, because you can’t in an industry like this. 

They don’t have much time before Ten is whisked away to Los Angeles, but they do what they can. Ten knows how to make use of time after all. He knows when he can let it escape him and when he needs to hold on tight. 

LA is different from Seoul, it’s different from Thailand, hell it’s different from Ukraine. LA feels like its own entity. The sun is high in the sky and the air is clear. Ten feels good here. He feels happy. 

It’s the first time a camera crew is following just him. In Ukraine, he had Taeyong to entertain the people with, but here he is on his own. 

And yet it feels natural, as natural as it can get. 

There are street musicians on every corner and Ten can’t help but stop and stare. He dances, for once not because he has to but because his body just moves on its own. His body wants. And Ten feels he wants it too. 

He is hoisted in a glitter shirt and told to dance, to walk, to jump and move and run. This is different from the shoots he knows. From the stoic backgrounds and the greenscreens. This is different from the insides of buildings and theater halls. It feels alive. They tell him to run so he does. He runs with his arms spread through a tunnel covered in graffiti and throws his head back, laughing. 

Feeling like a hero would be a bit much, but Ten feels alive, and for him that is enough.

* * *

_He’s doing it again._

Ten doesn’t even need a name or any more description to text back, _then tell him to stop_

 _He says it’s artistic expression._

Ten laughs at his screen, laughs harder when he sees the other messages pop up. 

_He said it in Korean so I feel like I can’t even get mad._

_he’s found a way to push your buttons qian_

_What did I say about using my last name._

_that you like it?_

“Why are you doing grinning at your phone?” Lucas asks. He’s doing sit-ups with Ten’s feet placed on top of his to hold him in place. 

“Good cat video,” Ten responds absentmindedly. Grinning even bigger when another text comes in which just states: _no_

_dropping the capitalization now are we qian_

“Ten.” 

Ten’s head shoots up and he comes face to face with a highly amused Lucas. “I said I won’t bother asking you to show it to me so you don’t have to scramble to find a cat video.” 

Ten sputters, readying another excuse while his thumb is sneakily making its way over to his photo gallery. But before he can back up his stupid cat video claim, Lucas is already one step ahead of him. “Is it Taeyong?” 

“No,” Ten says. Hesitant in the way he doesn’t know if letting Lucas believe it was Taeyong would cause less harm. But it’s just Kun. Kun and his harmless sweater vests. 

Lucas knows about Taeyong. Alongside the second mark Ten got for him, Lucas might have also caught sight of the hickeys that had dotted Ten’s chest when he got home from their shoot in Ukraine. Since then there have been a couple new ones but not many. The days are long, the nights even longer. When they see each other it’s in practice rooms or in the corridors of the building as they are rushing to another schedule. Comeback season is in full swing. 

And here Ten and Lucas are, doing pushups and talking about crushes. 

Lucas raises an eyebrow at him. “Really not Taeyong?” 

“No,” Ten repeats just as his phone lights up with a new message, this one not from Kun. 

_Eat with us tonight?_

That they don’t see each other one on one that often doesn’t mean they don’t see each other at all. Or that they don’t text. Constantly. 

“You want to eat with 127 tonight?” 

Lucas scoffs, “Not Taeyong, huh.” 

“Not Taeyong,” Ten says, typing out a confirmation to said guy, knowing that Lucas will hunt him down if he turns down the option of a night filled with actual edible food. 

_Of course you can bring Lucas! Actually, bring everyone. Me and Doyoung will get extra groceries on the way home :)_

“For the record, you did say yes, right?” Lucas has already restarted doing his situps. “Cause while I think eating burnt sausages out of a frying pan is a great bonding experience, I would love to eat off a plate.” 

Ten laughs. “And at an actual table.” He takes his feet off of Lucas’s, causing the boys’ legs to flail dramatically into the air. 

“Please tell me you said yes.” 

“I did,” Ten confirms while standing and stretching out his body. “We’re all invading their dorm tonight.” 

“I love how I can profit off of you and your friends-with-benefits relationship.” 

“You literally hung out with Jungwoo and Mark yesterday, you don’t need to get in through me.” 

Lucas pouts. “Don’t leave, I have to finish my sets.” 

Ten’s phone on the bed lights up again but he’s already walking towards the door. 

“I can’t,” he throws over his shoulder. “I have important stuff to do.” 

“Important my ass!” he hears Lucas yell at his back. 

Instead of making his way to the living room, Ten takes a right and continues through the hall. He stops in front of the door out of which he can hear the last notes of his own song blast. 

He throws open the door. Kun is visibly shaken while Chenle doesn’t even move an inch, still stuck in his ending pose. 

“Play it again!” 

“I thought you were on my side!” Kun yells out. The betrayal is evident on his face, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. 

“You wish, Qian.” The last part of his sentence gets cut off by Chenle turning the volume all the way up. 

“Do you want the windows to shatter!” 

Ten and Chenle just pretend they can’t hear him. The eye contact Ten keeps with Kun throughout the song is enough to shut him up until the end of it.

* * *

Whereas LA is alive and fresh and feels larger than life, unable to be contained even by itself, Thailand feels like it’s rooted into the ground, solid, like home. 

Getting off the plane at Incheon feels good. Getting off the plane in Bangkok feels amazing. 

As soon as Ten has both feet on the ground again and his suitcase in hand, he feels at ease. It’s easy to let out a breath, to unclench his jaw. It’s comfortable. Even the screaming fans can’t distract him from the fact that he can let himself relax. He feels loved and in return he loves back just as much. 

Taeyong watches him check his leg in the van. He doesn’t have to hide from Taeyong, doesn’t have to wait until they are at the hotel room to check his marks secretly in the bathroom. Ten just rolls up his pants as far as they will go and reveals the pug that seems to have blossomed as much as the flower next to it. It almost seems like color wants to push through, like his marks are going to start bleeding. Ten hasn’t even seen his family face-to-face yet. 

Taeyong smiles at him, in the back of the car in his home country, Taeyong smiles. Ten returns it wholeheartedly. Secretly he is glad he isn’t alone, can instead share this with one of his best friends. 

They’ve visited Thailand together before, but then it was different. They hadn’t known each other this well back then, and that doesn’t just mean that they’ve only gotten more intimate with their bodies. Ten would like to show Johnny Thailand again, just like Johnny still wants to tour him through Chicago. Sicheng and Lucas, too. He wants to take them all on a walk and point out the things about his home country that make him feel the way he does every time he sees these streets. 

To reconcile he takes pictures and sends them to the group chat that he shares with the two of them. He makes sure to send Johnny some too, and even Mark because the boy had explicitly asked before Ten and Taeyong boarded. 

To Taeyong he sends a selca he secretly took while Taeyong was asleep on the plane, his mouth open and drooling. 

His finger lingers over his chat with Kun, now pushed further towards the bottom and yet he can still find it. And apparently hover over it like a hawk. 

Ten prides himself for thinking things through, regarding everything before saying something. It’s a perk that comes with trying to learn a new language—it makes you more aware of what you’re saying in the first place. 

But there are instances where he acts first and thinks later. Like the time he crawled into bed with Renjun because the boy was crying so hard from homesickness that Jeno had come to wake him up for help. They ended up piled with all three on top of one another, all waking up with tears tracks dried on their faces and a knowing look from Kun, who had brought them breakfast to eat in bed while they watched cartoons. Or the time when Haechan and Mark had one of their monthly fights and as soon as Haechan had come through the door of the dorm with another sullen look, Ten had stomped his way to the level above them, dragging Haechan along behind him and demanding to see a certain Mark Lee cause the two of them were going to talk it out or so help him god. 

Ten does what he does best in those moments. He searches for the switch in his brain and turns it off. With an empty mind and so no protests to be made, he selects the same selca he sent to Taeyong and sends it to Kun too. He closes his phone right after and throws it into the middle seat between him and Taeyong, who looks at him like he knows what Ten just did even though there is no way in hell he could.

They take note of what they did in Ukraine and push their beds together again in Thailand.

This time though, Ten just lets himself be kissed, nothing more. He is glad he doesn’t have to make the excuse of filming and fan signs to object to hickeys. Taeyong seems to get it. He asks if Ten is fine with kissing and he says yes. He asks if Ten is fine with more and doesn’t rebut when Ten says no. 

At one point they exchange handjobs because the pressure in their pants is uncomfortably tight. Taeyong asks if he is sure though. He asks three times before finally taking Ten’s dick in his hand on the third yes. 

They kiss some more while basking in the dim afterglow. Ten doesn’t have to explain why he doesn’t want more. Again, Taeyong seems to get it. 

“This reminds me of when me and Yuta shared a room,” Taeyong says. Ten’s head is on his chest. Taeyong’s hand stroking through his hair. 

“You did this with Yuta?” 

“Something like it.” Taeyong takes a breath. “The guy has some strange porn choices but you can’t really complain about it.” 

Ten can feel Taeyong’s chest move beneath him as he chuckles, he himself sporting a grin. 

He can’t deny that he’s curious now. “How weird.” 

“You know what my mark for Yuta is?” 

“A puppy?” Ten tries. Thinking about the dog with the cute face on his own left leg with hair that just keeps on growing. Having so many dogs on his body feels like karma. Ten tries to balance it out by downloading extra cat videos to his phone. 

Taeyong laughs again. “Not quite. It’s an animal though.” 

“You are not trying to tell me he’s into bestiality.” 

Taeyong jumps in both laughter and shock. “No! Ten, _no!_ ” 

Ten positions his head back onto Taeyong’s chest, grabbing hold of Taeyong’s hand and placing it back on top of his own head. 

When Taeyong calms down slightly, he very carefully pushes out, “It’s an octopus.” 

Now it’s Ten’s turn to laugh. 

“Please tell me he just likes to eat octopus,” Ten pushes out between wheezes. He can see Taeyong trying to hold in a smirk. The tips of his ears slightly colored red. 

“Something like that,” Taeyong says, letting his hand card through Ten’s hair again. 

When Ten’s own laughter subsides he feels the need to still clarify something to Taeyong. Even if the atmosphere is as calm as it could be, and even if everything feels right. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t want more.” Taeyong was his first. Which maybe takes part in the fact that Ten wants to appease him. Or because Ten likes it when people like him. Or just because it’s Taeyong. Before he can get out another apology, Taeyong shushes him. His hand pushing at Ten’s shoulder to move him to sit up so he can look him in the eyes. 

“Ten,” he starts, “you never have to apologize for that.” 

“Okay,” Ten says, certain he got the message and ready to move on because the conversation is making him want to twist his hands together out of sheer awkwardness. He feels more exposed now with Taeyong looking at him with something in his eyes that Ten can’t quite figure out than how he had felt naked under him in Ukraine, entire body bared. “I understand.” 

“No, Ten, I don’t think you do,” Taeyong softly pushes his chin up with just his pointer finger. In any other circumstance, that would’ve felt like a show of power. Now it just feels kind, especially because of the soft smile that accompanies Taeyong’s words. “You can always say no.” 

Taeyong is looking at him so intently. It’s how Johnny used to look when he was trying to hammer the right pronunciation of a difficult word into Ten’s brain.

“I’m still sorry though,” Ten says. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” 

Ten keeps saying yes to kisses and quick handjobs and no to more. He refuses to believe the reason for it is because whenever he falls asleep next to Taeyong all he can hear is Kun’s laughter in the video he had sent as a response to Ten’s selca. The one where Kun isn’t even in frame but it’s just Lucas dancing the We Go Up choreo Haechan has been teaching him in secret, Kun behind the camera shrieking when Lucas starts imitating Mark’s rap. 

Ten supposes karma really hates him because the next time he checks the puppy he has for Yuta has grown an octopus tail. Something he denies himself just as hard to believe as hearing Kun’s laughter in his dreams.

* * *

Three hours after he is off the plane, he finds himself in his and Johnny’s old spot. Said guy is sitting in front of him, calling over the waiter if they can get another refill because apparently Taeil is a very quick drinker. He has been drinking Johnny and Ten under the table all the while casually finishing off his noodles. The only one that’s been keeping up with him is Mark, who looks a bit worse for wear but is otherwise very enthusiastic. Proudly showing them all the photos Ten had sent through KakaoTalk and explaining where each and every one had been taken while letting Ten pick the story back up whenever there is something to add. 

“You didn’t send that one to me,” Kun whispers in his direction at a picture of Ten standing in front of a mirror with his performance suit still on, holding a fan to his forehead to cool the sweat while sticking out his tongue at Taeyong, who is taking the photo with Ten’s phone. 

Ten lets his eyes fall to his own exposed chest in the picture. “I didn’t,” he states. To be fair, he had sent a good amount of pictures to Kun over the course of his short stay. Even asked his advice once on which one of two pictures he should post on Twitter. He quickly figured out that pictures with his own face in it got just the littlest bit more of a response from Kun than the ones he took of scenery. In return he got an abundance of videos of Chenle jamming out, Doyoung and Jaehyun hitting each other with dish towels or a picture of Sicheng snoring on the couch, one he quickly saved to his blackmail folder. 

“Didn’t know you would want it,” Ten says, stealing one of Kun’s quail eggs from his bowl. 

Kun looks at him strangely, like he’s trying to blurt out an answer but also biting his tongue to keep from doing exactly that. “I do,” he ends up saying, ducking his head back towards his food, with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. 

For Kun’s sake, Ten doesn’t go for public embarrassment and doesn’t ask Mark right then and there if he can forward it to Kun. Not that he could, with the way Taeil is having to help Mark keep his phone from slipping into his dish. Not that Taeil is doing a very good job either. It seems like the alcohol has finally caught up. 

Ten shoots Johnny a look, just to see that he’s looking at the duo with undeniable fondness in his eyes. Fondness mixed in with a little fear. Johnny feels Ten’s eyes on him and immediately gets the message. He bends over the table with his absurdly long upper body. “I’ll go pay,” he whispers like he’s laying out a war plan. “You take care of Mark and Kun,” Johnny raises his voice to draw the others’ attention, the other boy quickly looking up from where he was staring down the eggplant in his stew, “you take care of Taeil.” 

“I need no taking care of, Johnny boy!” Taeil yells. 

Johnny turns his eyes skywards. “Good god, please get us out of here.” 

Mark decides to pitch in. “I have a soul mark for that guy!” 

“Mark, now’s really not the time,” Johnny says. 

They’re actually drawing attention now. People’s heads are turning, their stares starting to linger. “Go pay,” Ten says, shooing Johnny away. “We’ve got this.”

They do not, in fact, have this. But they still make it home, everyone crashing in the Dream dorm because even if it’s not a good example to the kids it’s always better than facing Taeyong and Doyoung’s combined wrath in the morning.

* * *

Ten didn’t expect coming home to feel like this. Even though the dorm doesn’t quite feel like home. But then again, Thailand hadn’t either—it had felt like recognition. Something in his gut that stirs and makes him happy. That’s how he feels waking up with a hungover Taeil beside him and a toe from Johnny almost halfway up his nostril.

Now that he is back in Seoul, it becomes readily apparent that neither of the two places really feel like home to him. Even though when asked, Ten would describe both with the same word. It’s like he’s on an in-between station, ready to be picked up by a train that will take him one way or the other. But the train never comes. And Ten has a feeling that if it did it would just keep on going.

Ten also didn’t expect to come back to whispers, voices bouncing off of each other that something is in the works. Something besides 127’s Japanese debut and Dream’s comeback. Something that needs very careful planning and has apparently been in the works since the start of this year. 

It makes Ten’s ears prick up, because among the whispers he can hear mentions of his name. It’s something that has him hoping. It's something that has him ordering Chinese coursebooks online with the help of Renjun, just in case. 

He doesn’t share, because he doesn’t want to look like a fool for having hope, or for spreading that hope only to see everything be crushed. Luckily, Renjun doesn’t need answers, just helps him because that’s his nature. 

When one day Ten sees Kun come back to the dorms with a smile he can’t contain on his face, his hope spreads. Kun keeps his lips just as sealed as Ten himself does. But the pictures Kun sends him feel different now. They look happier, like they are coming from someone who has found a new outlook on life, and wants to pass it on. 

It drags out like this until Ten can’t hold it anymore and slips through the hallway and into Kun’s room one night when he knows Chenle is sleeping at his parents’ house.

Ten closes the door behind him and Kun shoots up only to throw his phone to the end of his bed. 

“I know,” Ten states, crawling on top of Kun’s covers and staring the boy down with big eyes. 

Kun swallows, audibly. “Know what?” With that tone of voice he is never going to fool anyone. 

Ten rolls his eyes. Kun shifts under him, dragging the covers up to his chin. Ten notes the information that Kun sleeps without a shirt, files it away for later. Maybe if he can rile Kun up enough he will actually drop the covers so Ten can have more information to put into the storage box in his brain. For now, he just repeats, “I know.” 

Kun’s starting to look sicker by the minute. “Listen, Ten, I didn’t mean—” 

“Yes, I know we can’t share it with anyone else.” 

“Well, yes, of course, but,” Kun looks like a gaping fish with his mouth wide open, “wait what?”

“We can hardly go around telling Lucas and the others. I don’t want their hopes to be crushed if it ends up not working out.” 

“Lucas is holding out hope?” Kun’s hand comes to tangle in his own hair, pulling at it. “Why would Lucas…okay, but who else?” 

“Chenle, Renjun, Sicheng too I think.” 

“Chenle!” Kun almost shouts. Like the boy is in the room and is doing something very bad that needs to be stopped right this second. “I’m going to kill the kid! Did he put you up to this?” 

Now it’s Ten’s turn to look confused. He draws his body back a bit, backing out of Kun’s personal space. “Why are you talking about committing murder?” He snorts, amusement biting through his voice. “And why would Chenle put me up to anything?”

“You know how much of an instigator he is.” 

“Sure, but why would he convince me to talk to you about a new group he doesn’t even know about?” 

“New group?” Kun parrots. 

“Qian Kun, are you messing with me right now?” 

Kun slaps his thigh. “I would never.” His hand stays on Ten’s leg, too casually placed. Ten doesn’t shift away from it. “Now say more than just I know cause we’re not getting anywhere with that.” 

“The meeting you had, the one you came back from so happy, I thought…” 

Kun’s eyes grow comically wide. Ten can feel the grip on his leg tighten. “You thought what?” 

This is an awfully terrible moment, and yet as Kun looks up at him full of anticipation, Ten can’t help but think of the moments he shared with Taeyong in this position. His mind strays a bit further and replaces Taeyong’s face with Kun’s. His brain starts to chant how easy it would be to just lean in. Ten throws that thought out as soon as it arrives. 

“The new group, NCT China.” 

Understanding washes over Kun’s face in layers. He looks at the door and Ten’s gaze follows to see it’s shut as he left it. He can feel his brain wanting to push more thoughts to the front again.

“WayV,” Kun says, almost whispering with how low his voice has dropped. Like he’s sharing one of his deepest secrets. 

“Wavy?” Ten repeats, matching Kun’s tone like he can be let in on the secret. 

Kun shakes his hand slightly, one of his bangs flopping into his eyes. Ten shifts the strands of hair away without a second thought. Too focused on Kun’s lips. “Way V,” Kun pronounces clearly. His voice drops even lower. Ten can feel himself lean in just a bit more. “Weishen V.” 

Ten repeats the words back to him. He can see Kun’s eyes light up even in the shred of light from the sole lamp on the nightstand. Ten imagines he must look quite the same. Crazed with want and hope. He repeats it back again, “Weishen V.” 

It tastes good. He says it again, letting the three syllables slide off his tongue. It tastes like his mom’s home cooking. Saying those words to Kun gives him the same feeling an airplane does the split second the wheels take off from the ground. It makes him feel like he can see the first blink of lights of an oncoming train he has been waiting for for a long while.

* * *

Hope is a very fragile thing. 

It exists in many forms and has wormed itself into Ten’s brain on more occasions than he’d like to admit. 

It was there when he passed the audition his dad had dragged him to, that maybe he was destined for something bigger than the half-hearted theater classes he loved taking but knew would not become his future. It snuggled into him when he got his first soul mark outside of his family, a tree that is still on his hand. Always rooted. Always solid. Always a reminder of a friend he can fall back on. More hope trickled into him with his debut which was unfair, and yet he wouldn’t ever trade it for the world. 

And now hope had reared its ugly head yet again. It had made Ten’s mark on his heart even more visible, the black ink now showing when he was wearing a white shirt that was just on this side of see-through while the others on his body stayed hidden. 

Hope is a very fragile thing. And Ten has been crushed by it many times before. Has been crushed in general. With the military drawing, his leg injury, the waiting. It always comes down to the waiting. 

This time, too. He and Kun waited, talked in secret until Lucas got notified, and Sicheng soon after. They got thrown into meetings together. There were three others and yet they couldn’t meet them. _Not yet,_ was always the verdict. Ten had a thousand rebuttals on his tongue but Kun’s hand on his shoulder, or on his thigh, or just a quick shake of the head from the boy had him pushing all the questions back down his throat. _Not yet, just a little longer._

One day there is a song and the next day they are learning the choreography for it. Afterwards getting notified that there are two more songs that need preparing. And that hope that had started to bury itself claws out of its grave again, shoving the dirt aside and sticking its head up above ground. 

They meet the three others. And there is this instant where all seven of them are in a room and they can just feel it. In their bones, to the tips of their toes and the roots of all the hairs on their overdyed heads. And they know others can feel it too. 

Hope is a very fragile thing. Which is why when Taeyong grows his hair out and gets it bleached for the nth time, Ten panics. When Sicheng is pulled from their choreography lesson and into another one, Ten panics. Which is why when they tell them that their song is going to another unit, Ten panics. 

The little dancer on Ten’s heart goes from almost breaking out in color to a vague outline. It looks to be split in half, but Ten can’t say for certain because there is almost nothing left to look at. 

Hope is a very fragile thing. And god is it easily crushed.

* * *

There had been a time where Sicheng had told him to pay more attention to Kun. That the guy was worth investing time into. That you would get something worthwhile in return. Ten didn’t get it. He didn’t get what was so special about this kid with the too kind smile and ugly sweater vests. 

But now he sees it. Because in the moment where Ten feels most broken, Kun is there to stitch him back up. To piece him pack together with glue that should take three seconds to dry, even if for Ten it takes a lot longer. 

Kun is there in that practice room when they are told they will not make their debut before the new year. And while everyone else falls, Kun stands ramrod straight. 

Ten knows Kun has dealt with disappointment before. Probably even worse than his own, though he has long ago stopped comparing his misfortune with others’. Otherwise, he and Jaemin could argue for years on whose injury was the worst. 

When their manager leaves the room, Ten has the slight urge to cry. But he can’t, not right here, not right now. Maybe together with Lucas later. He can practically feel the mark on his back grow. Ten sees Lucas reach for his own shoulder blade.

“Fuck,” one of the kids says. Yangyang. A boy he has already grown fond of.

Xiaojun says something Ten can’t quite fully grasp yet. Now more than ever, he feels out of his depth. 

He sinks to his knees. Lucas comes walking towards him, slumping down next to him, also defeated. All of the others slowly sink down to the ground, like standing is too big of an effort, like it hurts. And maybe in this moment it does. Yet Kun out of all people keeps both his feet on the ground. 

It’s silent. Someone is sniffling but Ten can’t see who it is, and doesn’t want to look for them. 

“Again,” Kun says. In the silence that that one word leaves in its wake, Kun stares straight ahead at the wall of the practice room. His fists are clenched, nails digging tiny moons into skin that make Ten think of the little half-moon he carries under his own eye for Taeil. The bastard who, after just two weeks of Ten getting to know him, had already left his mark on him. It’s a feat that so far only Yangyang has beaten, clocking in at a solid five days that it took before a huge race car had appeared on Ten’s arm. 

Kun’s hands are shaking with anger but his voice is composed when he repeats, “Again.” 

“Kun,” Hendery tries, but it’s no use. Kun is already walking to the stereo set and turning Regular back on. 

“From the beginning,” he says and lets the song play, not even giving them the time to get in formation. 

One by one they scramble to stand ready for the second verse. If they know one thing it’s when to work on autopilot, when to turn their brains off and just follow along. 

Ten isn’t the only one crying when the final note hits and he pushes his two hands out in a symbol he thought up long ago. 

The song starts back up without prompting. 

“Again,” Kun says. But he doesn’t need to, everyone is already moving and falling into step like a well-oiled machine. 

Ten has felt this feeling before, the one he feels when he’s looking at Kun after practice. Kun, who is talking to a very sweaty Lucas, holding Yangyang in place so he doesn’t run off after Hendery who has stolen his water bottle. 

He felt it when he looked at Taeyong all those years ago. But there is a slight difference now. Ten broadens his gaze. Accepts the water Xiaojun offers him with a smile and a quick thank you in Chinese. Kun catches his eye. 

Ten wants to dance beside all of them, stand on a stage next to them, with them. Bear their hardships and their joy. Ten sees Kun as the powerhouse he is and while he would burn himself for the others, he would follow Kun right at the heel into the gates of hell if Kun just said the word. 

Sicheng was right. Kun is worth paying attention to. Because under the dimples and the fragile exterior rests a leader. Someone who is ready to make sure that the dancer on Ten’s heart becomes solid again.

* * *

Sicheng carries a peach for him, because he is an absolute devil that Ten treasures more than one should, for the overlord of hell. Johnny has a purple heart on the inside of his hand and Taeyong one word that is divided over two body parts. 

One of the more surprising ones is Jisung, there is a little tap dance shoe on his eyelid. When Ten asked what it was and who it was for, Jisung had at first instinct ducked away before pushing out his chest and stating that it was for Ten. 

He has never in his life been looked up to, at least not by someone so close to him. It left him off balance, in shock, and with a laughing Jisung who told him that when Ten danced, “you couldn’t just _not_ look.” 

There are some people he suspects bear marks for him but don’t show them. Like Yuta, whose mark Ten carries for him has changed from dog to robot as they’ve started hanging out more. Not that Yuta knows; Ten isn’t too keen on sharing that one, and is fine with not knowing what Yuta has for him. 

Or there are people for whom he has marks, but may not have one for him in return. At first thought that hurt him, but then he remembered the way he felt in high school, how sometimes someone can’t even help it. And so Ten had reeled himself back in and accepted that he is allowed to feel even if someone in turn might not feel back. 

There is one person though who Ten is curious about. Curiosity that spreads when Ten realizes Kun has started wearing shirts when he goes to sleep. Or just at all times. He doesn’t change shirts in the living room or the kitchen or the hallways in a rush. Ten understands. They’re soul marks after all, the need to keep them private is very understandable. 

He does the same, is always cautious of taking off his shirt because of the large piece that still adorns his back. Now more a memoriam than anything else. 

It’s not like he’s Lucas, who has started strutting around nude because he feels like he can now. Marks on full display besides other things. To Ten’s own horror, it only takes Hendery one week of living together to adopt this habit. 

Kun and him quickly install a barrier so to speak. They don’t need anyone traumatized and packing their bags before debut. 

And so, streaking around the dorm turns into sharing showers, something that Ten participates in because having someone to wash your back once in a while is nice. It’s also something from which Kun is noticeably absent. 

Ten asks Lucas about it when he sneaks into his room. They’re not roommates anymore, having switched everything up when they moved out of Dream dorm. Even though Sicheng and Lucas still claimed each other, and left Kun to deal with the aftermath of two roommates while Ten quickly claimed Hendery. 

Lucas looks at him funny when he asks why Kun is so protective of the skin on his chest. While Ten might get wanting to cover up soul marks, Ten doesn’t get the sudden shift. There were times in Dream dorm where Ten remembers Kun baking pancakes with his chest out and Chenle buzzing around him. But now Kun has become a hermit of his own flesh. Times change, Ten supposes. But then again Kun had stripped out of his pants so easily just yesterday without even batting an eye as he settled onto the couch for a marathon of a drama he’s following with Xiaojun. 

“Is he self-conscious?” Ten asks. “About his chest?” 

Lucas looks even more funny, his mouth quirking up at the sides, even while he talks. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” Lucas turns his head in that adorable way that makes Ten reconsider favoring cats over dogs and asks, “Does that mean you don’t know?” 

There’s a way in, in that sentence. Ten pounces on it like a cat would a mouse. “Know what?” he asks, in the most innocent tone he can manage. 

Lucas has always been a terrible liar. He doesn't disappoint now. “I don’t know either, just thought you two shared a lot.” His response is too quick to be believable. 

Ten can’t help but push. “In what way?” 

“In a way that you bicker like an old married couple who know way too much about each other for it to be healthy,” Sicheng responds from the doorway, towel slung over his shoulder and hair still damp. 

Ten gasps in mock offense. “We don’t do that.” 

Sicheng scoffs. “How fucking dense can you be?” 

“Wait, you don’t have that thing with Taeyong going on anymore?” Lucas asks, leaning back on the bed and looking equal parts amused and confused. 

“You and Taeyong had a thing?” Sicheng is staring Ten down. 

“No,” Ten says at the same moment Lucas says, “Yes.” 

“Fuck, I knew having two soulmate markings for one person wasn’t normal.” 

“Wait, Taeyong has two marks for Ten?” 

Sicheng frowns. “Yeah, Ten does for him, too.” 

“I know _that,_ ” Lucas says. 

Ten interjects. “To be fair, they make up one word.” As opposed to his own two separate marks: one Adidas logo that has grown bigger and continues to do so while the newer Gucci logo on his right elbow struggles to keep up. 

Sicheng walks into the room and settles onto his own bed, throwing the towel over the wooden frame of his bed. They don’t have bunks anymore, thank god. Hendery is already a restless sleeper, Ten doesn’t need him going up and down a ladder every night to pee. 

“Do you have two for Kun?” 

“No,” Ten tells Sicheng. 

“Do you even have one?” Lucas asks. He knows how Ten’s soul marks don’t appear as quickly as for other people. Lucas also knows it’s something Ten struggles with. “Wait, you don’t have to answer that.” 

Ten joins Lucas on his bed, drawing his legs under him and leaning his weight against Lucas’ body. “I do,” he says. Which seems to come as a surprise to both of the boys in the room with him. 

“I’m jealous,” Sicheng says. 

Lucas nods, prodding Ten in the side with his elbow. “Me too. How long did it take you to get one for me? Years? And then it’s a dog? No originality there at all.” 

Ten laughs. “As if you didn’t coo over it the first time you saw it.” He pokes Lucas back in his side. “And it didn’t take years.” 

Lucas is probably the only person from who he never felt like he had to hide something. Ten had even tried to keep some of his marks secret from Taeyong. Taeyong had understood, like he always did. 

Maybe Ten doesn’t feel like he has to hide from Lucas because they share that ugly banner. Something that makes Ten feel like an ungrateful child, especially now. But also because somewhere rooted in his heart that banner and the word in it is a reminder that everything can fall apart at a moment’s notice. Johnny’s banner has faded. Ten knows because he asked to check that night they all stumbled home together and he ended up with a drunk Taeil in his bed and a snoring Johnny not far away. 

Ten wonders if he would feel ashamed if Kun saw the big mark that stretches from shoulder to shoulder. Or if he would feel embarrassed if Kun asked about the dancer that’s still being mended. Or for an answer as to why Yangyang’s car has gotten a complimentary racetrack that hasn’t stopped expanding and is slowly overtaking his entire arm—something Ten himself doesn’t even have an answer for. 

No, Ten thinks, he probably wouldn’t mind. He would probably ask for an explanation of all of Kun’s marks in return. He knows the small stamp on Kun’s thumb is for Chenle, and that the one on his foot is for Renjun. He goes down the list and finds he actually already knows most marks and who they stand for and where to locate them on Kun’s body. 

He’s not sure of all of them, but through the process of elimination he can tick off most people. There’s a moon on Kun’s upper leg. Something that Ten knows is not for him but still puzzles over—he hadn’t known Taeil and Kun had gotten so close. 

He goes down the list but can’t find one that would match himself. The fish on Kun’s neck feels like a possibility but not quite right. Kun doesn’t really come off as someone who cares for astrology. 

“Does Kun have one for me?” he asks the room. 

Sicheng’s smile is already telling enough. 

Ten scrunches up his nose. “Is it the fish on his neck?”

Sicheng masks his laughter behind his hand. “No,” he manages to wheeze out. Lucas doesn’t even try to hide it, letting out a full-bellied chuckle. Ten slaps him on the shoulder in annoyance. 

“Stop laughing and give me some information I can work with.” 

“Definitely not,” Sicheng states, still coming down from hysterics. 

“Did you really think it was the fish?” Lucas asks feigning innocence. 

Ten makes a motion to strangle him. Only when he has his hands around Lucas’s throat does Sicheng come to the rescue. “Think of what makes you, you.” 

Lucas motions for Ten to release his hold so he can speak. Ten complies, but with great reluctance. “That’s going to make him think Kun has a pile of bones as a mark or something.” 

Sicheng sighs. “Fine, think of who you are. That’s the mark he has for you.” 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Please don’t tell me it’s just the number ten.” 

“You’re asking for a bit much here, don’t you think. Seeing as you literally have a robot with an octopus tail coming out of its ass as one of your marks.” 

Ten resumes his hold on Lucas’s throat, squeezing just a bit harder. “Kun,” Sicheng drawls at a yelling volume, “Ten’s committing murder.” 

A beat later they hear a voice yell back. “First or second degree?”

“I don’t know, it might be a crime of passion.” 

“That’s second degree!” Yangyang chimes in from the other end of the hallway.

* * *

Filming a music video takes a lot of time. It helps that all of them have some experience, and that the new three are gaining confidence as time goes on. 

The suit he wears reminds him of filming for Baby Don’t Stop and he sends Taeyong a picture from his makeup chair with a message following behind saying, _thank fuck we’re filming inside this time._ They want his jacket fully opened this shoot, chest on full exposure. Which is fine. It takes a lot of makeup though, and it’s probably going to take some extra editing time too, trying to fully get his marks out in post. It’s not just the dancer that they have to make invisible after all. 

His arms get skin patches even if the jacket covers them. Yangyang’s racetrack needs the extra protection, in case the camera catches a look inside the sleeves. Ten is beyond pleased they didn’t make the back of the jacket see-through. His face and chest are already caked with makeup, he’d rather it not be his entire upper body. 

“Have you turned into a canvas yet or what?” 

Ten looks up from his phone—where Taeyong has just sent him back a kind good luck along with a threat to come over again with the new members soon or else—and right into Kun’s face. 

Kun, with his very blond hair. 

Kun had asked him what Ten thought the day he came back to the dorms after having it dyed. Ten had told him it looked good. Afterward, in private, he bemoaned the lost times of the boy with the dimples and sweater vests. 

This Kun also has dimples. But this Kun also has an aura around him that makes even Ten squirm in his seat. Apparently this Kun likes looking at Ten’s chest. Ten smirks when he catches Kun’s eyes in the mirror slipping down for the fourth time since he walked in. Some things never change. 

Kun’s head shoots up as Ten starts speaking. “They still aren’t done.” 

Kun slinks up behind him, settling one hand on Ten’s makeup chair and letting the other hover over the side of Ten’s neck. 

“You’re going to make the company go bankrupt with the amount of foundation they use on you.” 

Ten can feel Kun’s thumb glide over the clapperboard on the right side of his neck. Can see his thumb circle over the numbers for roll, scene, and take. Spelling out a date that has not yet happened. 

“Luckily they don’t have to cover us head to toe anymore every time we go out,” Ten says. 

Even the company had gotten fed up with the extra time and money it took to cover all its idols anytime they took a step outside. Besides, it gave the fans something to talk about and think up conspiracies over, which in the end only meant more exposure. For music videos and important schedules, the company is prepared to go through the motions. Although idols are starting to appear with their marks in full view on variety shows. It’s stirring up something in the industry; luckily it’s mostly positive. 

“Lucky indeed or we’d never be able to leave the house.” 

Ten snorts, slapping Kun’s hand as a reprimand with no heat behind it. Kun doesn’t take it off anyway, thumb continuing rubbing over the numbers. 

“Only your neck left?” 

Ten nods. “Yeah, they gave me sleeves for Yangyang’s.” 

“They did your chest well,” Kun points out, almost making a motion to touch. 

It’s not the first time Kun has seen his front fully exposed. But it is the first time since a second mark has appeared on it. It’s stuck in an awkward position somewhere between his stomach and his lungs. Just floating around in the middle. It makes Ten think of the movie Up, but without the balloons. 

Kun’s left hand comes to rest on Ten’s back. 

“Editing team is still going to have their work cut out for them,” Ten says, trying not to focus on the heat that Kun’s hand seems to send through his spine. He does his best not to shift in his seat. 

Ten catches Kun’s smile in the mirror. “I think Hendery and his face mark win that competition.” Kun’s eyes flick down again, this time staring without hesitation. “Although,” he trails off, “did it get bigger?” 

Ten can only nod. 

The assistant-director comes bursting into the room, a producer and a stylist right on his heels, the latter holding a bottle of foundation in the air like it’s the holy grail. 

“Ten, individual shots in five minutes. Kun, we’re going to put you in the outfit for the group shots in a bit.” 

Ten can still feel Kun’s hand on his back, the older not drawing away. Ten squeezes the hand that has dropped down to lay on his shoulder once and gets up from the chair, his legs unsticking as he goes. 

“You can take my chair,” Ten says as he walks over to his stylist who is already coming at him with a brush. 

“You’re going to make us go bankrupt with the amount of foundation we have to put on you,” she says as she starts dabbing product onto the left and right side of his neck. 

He can hear Kun behind his back say, “That’s exactly what I said!” followed by creaking as he settles into the vacated spot. 

Ten rolls his eyes in response to which the stylist shoots him a smile. Ten returns it.

* * *

Lucas cries. 

They are backstage, ten minutes before they have to take the stage and the tears finally spill from his eyes. There are people with flashlights all around them in the low light trying to find spots that need extra makeup. Two different staff members immediately come to Lucas to hand him napkins. One of the makeup artists comes to dab concealer over the tear tracks streaking down Lucas’s cheeks. Sicheng is beside Lucas patting his back while Yangyang tries to cheer him up. 

They’ll talk about it after, like they tend to do more days than not after practice. Just take an hour out of their schedules to sit down and have a conversation. It’s a tradition they started very early on, something that stuck because, for some reason, it helps. 

Ten can kind of guess what Lucas will say. He himself has felt it before too. 

Finally, he says, in the form of a squeeze to Lucas’s hand as his friend dabs at another tear. Kun jumps in with encouraging smiles. But in the end, they leave Lucas to it. Ten gives him his space—as much as can be given in the small room behind the stage—and lets Lucas gather himself. 

He sees Lucas turn his head to the ceiling, blinking back more tears and maybe calling out for something. A _thank you,_ a _took long enough,_ a _fucking finally._

Ten makes his way over to Sicheng and hugs him. They’ve always been close and are growing closer through their shared project. The friendship that was on a lower pit now fully turned back up. Ten missed him he realizes, has always known deep down. 

Hendery pulls at his sleeve to tell him Lucas is back with both feet on earth. 

“Two minutes,” someone yells. Amidst all the noise, Ten can’t even tell which direction it came from. Staff is urging them forward now, scrambling to push them to the steps as a group. 

“One minute!”

Kun let’s go of Lucas’s hand to make space for Ten between them on the stairs. 

A timer starts to count down. Ten would like to say something to the others. _Break a leg, you’ll do well, if anything goes wrong just go on._ But in reality everything has already been said. If not by Kun in the waiting room than by the months they spent preparing for this. 

The months they spent growing closer to form a bond of trust, of unity. A something that Ten has started calling his family. 

He turns to Lucas behind him who quickly withdraws his knuckle from his eye. Ten leans in. 

“The unfortunates, huh.” 

Lucas laughs, one of those laughs that comes straight from his belly. The timer runs its last seconds, becoming louder with every single count passed. 

“How unfortunate we are,” Lucas says. He laughs again, the corners of his painted lips drawing up. 

Ten has the biggest grin on his face. He must look crazy, if his expression looks anything like the one Lucas is wearing now. 

“How fucking unfortunate.” 

Ten turns back, coming face to face with Kun’s white jacket. Staff tells them to move. They walk up the stairs one by one and assemble in a line. 

It’s embarrassing, but they’ve practiced this. The younger three had all laughed when Sicheng had said at least one of them will start walking like it’s a fucking marathon, purely from the adrenaline. 

The intro starts and the screen opens before them. Ten doesn’t register his actions, he just moves. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Yangyang going a beat too fast. He does everything to conceal his smile. 

They stop in position. The lights cut. His ears sing with noise, his blood feels like it’s pulsing through his veins a hundred miles an hour, his heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest and fall flat to the floor.

The first note of Regular pushes through the speakers. From there on out, it’s pure muscle memory.

* * *

The banner on his back doesn’t disappear. Instead, the jagged edges with which it was first sketched smooth themselves out until it’s a clean rectangle. It stretches shoulder to shoulder, the word _unfortunates_ in big font still in the middle of it. Ten stops being embarrassed whenever people see it. He starts treating it like Lucas does, wears it like a big sign of pride. A sign that he is still here, still standing.

He calls his mother and the flower on his leg blooms again, asks for his dad on the phone and the television switches from a boring grey to a new channel.

He and Sicheng record for their Rainbow V performance and when he stands in front of his friend with the wooden frames around him, mirroring the movements the boy on the other side of him makes he can’t help but laugh as he thinks of what is hiding under the makeup at his nape.

The donkey on the left side of his neck gains a prince to ride it when they get to know the concept for their first mini album, much to Hendery’s delight. 

Yuta takes him shopping for more Gundams and instead of having 127 cook for everybody Johnny comes up with the brilliant idea to just go to a restaurant. 

It’s a vague repeat of the last time Ten went out to drink somewhere with Taeil was present. Only that time compared to this one was a walk in the park. When Jungwoo knocks over the third glass of the evening and Chenle, even though not having had more than a sip, is trying to convince—successfully, at that— Hendery and Jaehyun to compete in a dance battle, Taeyong makes the decision for all of them that it’s time to wrap it up and leave. 

Ten and the rest of WayV find themselves in the Dream dorm. One of the monsters has claimed his bed in his permanent absence so he decides that the best way to spend the night is sandwiched in between too many blankets and Kun’s arms. 

He wakes up when the sun streams in through the blinds they forgot to close. Kun’s arm is radiating warmth across Ten’s bare chest, shirt discarded onto the floor but his jeans are still on—and pretty uncomfortable. 

Kun is still fully clothed, his expression serene, something Ten would like to wake up to many mornings more. There’s no quiet snores coming from the bed above them, or any movement at all, Chenle probably having crashed somewhere else. 

He looks at where Kun’s arm is caged around his midriff. And he freezes, Kun stirring next to him. 

Ten wakes up with Qian Kun beside him and a streak of red on his chest.

* * *

The mark stretches. 

It’s a gradual process. One day they’re preparing for their first stage with their own official title track and Ten notices the mark between his stomach and his lungs isn’t really between anything anymore. It’s widened, it’s taller, it’s going to engulf him alive. 

Between pestering Sicheng for more information and listening to Taeyong’s new song his torso gets taken over by black lines, and in between them, color. 

Lucas notices, because of course he does. Everyone probably already noticed, even if Ten has stopped partaking in the community showers and has started covering his chest every second of every day. Everyone has probably already noticed, they are just kind enough not to mention it. 

Except Lucas, because of course he does. 

It’s not that he necessarily comes out and says it, it’s just that he gives Ten a little knowing nod when instead of him they put Sicheng in a blazer that doesn’t close for Take Off. 

Every day after fansigns and stages and interviews, reality and variety shows, practices and just entire days spent doing absolutely nothing, Ten stands in front of the mirror in the evening and sees that the mark has grown. 

His Chinese gets better. He has lunch with Chenle and Renjun and they applaud him for his improvement. At night he sees another streak of yellow has been added to the canvas of his body. 

Ten can only imagine how beautiful all the other marks he carries would be with color, but if it had to be one, Ten is glad it’s this one.

* * *

Hope is a very fragile thing, and it spreads so easily. 

Ten has tasted it enough times already to last himself twenty lifetimes, and yet it seems to have attached itself to his skin, wormed itself into his brain, made itself a little corner to settle down in. No matter how hard he tries to put it out he can’t quit. It’s like an addiction that keeps washing over him, and all he can do is cling to it, hold onto the scrap he is provided and hope he doesn’t drown. 

Hope is a very fragile thing, and god is it easily broken. 

But then again, Qian Kun has always been more like the cement between bricks than the ruin other people would leave behind. 

Kun, with his adorable dimples and quick sharp bite that he’s learning to use more. Kun, with his rough hands that can make Ten feel and for once hurt in a good way. Kun, with his stupid sweater vests that have somehow started to end up in Ten’s laundry basket. 

Qian Kun who carries a mark for Ten on his chest, settled right over his heart. It’s not a picture or a shape, not a color or a symbol. It’s two words, or names, rather. One slightly longer than the other. It’s who Ten is. Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.

* * *

Ten always thought he belonged to the group of people with a low amount of soul markings. The group that felt things in moderation. 

But as he looks in the mirror in front of him, there is almost no space left uncovered by art. His art. Art that is always growing, always developing, always evolving. Just like him. 

There is one mark he particularly treasures, keeps close to his chest. It’s the one that appeared when he passed the audition to train under SM Entertainment. It has been through many stages and yet always ends up retaking its original form.

It’s a mark placed directly over his heart. The shadow of a dancer, looking up, arms in the air and ready to jump into the chimney of the technicolored house that stretches across his entire torso.

**Author's Note:**

> [ twitter](http://twitter.com/dreaminahero)   
>  [ curiosity killed the cat ](https://curiouscat.me/lertsek)


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